See now how
words once
hot from our tongues
forgo spice
and definition,
peeling
from our chests,
where they
are routinely forced,
like plasters
off wet wounds.
See?
Just a
moka spoon
of doubt
wins out,
as surely as
high pressure
escapes to low,
or the moon
manipulates
the damn tides.
I love you
Love you
Knock
Knock
Piano pedals sans keys.
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